Roughly 2-1/2 years ago, the nexus of what would become Bong Mountain packed their first communal bowl. Pulling from each of their collective stashes, scraping the oldest of their scorched pipes, emptying the last of their reserved reserves, the group first began assembling what would become their impressive debut. It features the trademark gruffness that Michigan’s basement dwelling punks have come to love, as well as a level of self-awareness only available to those who have been around the block a time or two.
Despite what their name might suggest, the band draws more influences from the gruff sound of their native Midwest and those of Northern Florida, than from Jerry Garcia or spirited acid flashbacks. Melodies entrenched in layers of distorted guitars, reminiscent of fellow Michiganders Small Brown Bike and North Lincoln, are a stark contrast to their ridiculous name.